


As My Loss Is Grievous

by the_rck



Category: Original Work
Genre: Civil War, Half-Sibling Incest, M/M, Mind Control, Politically motivated rape, Politics, References to public use, Regime Change, Revenge, Royalty, Sibling Incest, magical mind control, references to past murder, references to past torture
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-13
Updated: 2019-07-13
Packaged: 2020-06-27 18:43:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,575
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19796797
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/the_rck/pseuds/the_rck
Summary: Lembril turned to look at the guards who’d brought Enril into his newly claimed quarters. “My brother and I have things to discuss.” He gave the final word a vicious twist. None of these men would be surprised by it, not given how long all of them had worked for this moment.Not for the throne. I could hardly be a worse king than he was, but that was never the point.He met each man’s eyes in turn. “I don’t intend to deny any claims of vengeance against those who deserve it. Not claims from my comrades, at least.”





	As My Loss Is Grievous

**Author's Note:**

  * For [nonconamod](https://archiveofourown.org/users/nonconamod/gifts).



> Title from Rudyard Kipling's "Cold Iron."
> 
> I started this in 2017. It's no longer quite right for the original prompt and doesn't clearly fit anything in this year's set of Nonconathon requests.

“I am what you taught me to be.” Lembril kept his voice even and quiet. Whatever else his brother might be, Enril wasn’t even remotely stupid. _He knows that I have the power here. He’ll listen. And look for advantage._

Enril shifted slightly, and the chains on his wrists and ankles rattled. He glanced up at Lembril for the briefest moment then lowered his eyes to where his knees met the floor.

 _Not a surrender, but I expect he hopes I’ll see it as one._ Lembril pushed his chair back from his desk, stood, and walked a wide circle around his brother. _If I were still twelve, I might well, but that was fifteen years ago._

He turned to look at the guards who’d brought Enril into his newly claimed quarters. “My brother and I have things to discuss.” He gave the final word a vicious twist. None of these men would be surprised by it, not given how long all of them had worked for this moment. _Not for the throne. I could hardly be a worse king than he was, but that was never the point._ He met each man’s eyes in turn. “I don’t intend to deny any claims of vengeance against those who deserve it. Not claims from my comrades, at least.”

None of them responded for a moment, and Lembril wondered if they actually intended to question his choice. _They’ve all known me long enough to have the right._ Then the oldest of the four cleared his throat. “We’ve no mind to interfere, my lord--” He stopped for a moment. “Sorry-- Your majesty.”

Lembril laughed. “I’ve been lord longer than I’ve been anything else, Iwan.” _And the coronation isn’t for three days yet. I still don’t know-- Well, yes. I do, and nobody’s going to understand. They’ll do it, but they won’t understand._

Iwan smiled briefly and nodded. “We just don’t trust the son of a bitch.” His eyes rested on Enril for a moment, and he bared his teeth.

Enril didn’t look up, so his lack of reaction might have been ignorance rather than self-control.

Lembril didn’t believe that for a moment.

“He’ll kill you if he can. More likely now given that he knows he won’t get away anyway,” Iwan went on.

Enril’s shoulders twitched.

Lembril wondered if Enril would be unwise enough to speak. Once he was sure Enril wasn’t going to say anything, he shrugged. “Whatever else happens, I want him alive as witness.” They all knew perfectly well that ‘alive’ allowed for a great many things that Enril would not enjoy. _I’m pretty sure he’ll want to die. I’ll enjoy that. Quite a lot._ “If you think he needs to be… more thoroughly immobilized, I have no objection as long as I can still touch him.” He hesitated for a moment then sighed. “There will be occasions for the others, but… Tonight is-- and possibly other occasions will be-- about my mother.”

Lembril had his eyes fixed on Iwan, so he wasn’t sure which of the others drew in his breath in an audible hiss. When he looked from face to face, he still couldn’t tell. “Not his children. Whatever else-- Not that.” He bent and wrapped Enril’s hair in his fist. He forced his brother’s head up so that their eyes met. “They’re for the Church. I’m not you.” When he released his grip, he backhanded his brother hard enough to knock him over.

Enril struggled to regain his knees but stilled completely when Lembril pressed a booted foot down on Enril’s ribs.

Lembril couldn’t remember what his dead brothers and sisters had looked like, but he’d never forget their names or that he’d loved them. _If he was going to murder them, he should have made sure he got all of us. Asineh would have beaten him without my help. Pashreah might not have bothered with anything but a curse, but… Well, that would have killed everyone. Not that she’d care._

Which was why he’d put the crown on Asineh’s head in three days time rather than on Pashreah’s. _I’d take it myself rather than give it to her. A queen will be better than a king for preventing… this, but not Pashreah. Not even if she wanted it._ Lembril was beyond grateful that she didn’t, that she and Asineh both understood his plan and his reasoning. _A queen’s children are hers. No one even has to know-- not for sure-- who the fathers are. If they murder each other, they can’t claim that they’re not really related._

And Asineh already had two daughters.

Lembril spat on the man who had labeled him and his family as traitors simply for existing and for sharing his father’s blood. Then he looked at the guards-- _My liegemen._ \--again. “I’m not sure, if I were you, that I’d want to know.” He studied their faces again.

Iwan looked grimly determined. He nodded. 

The others weren’t as certain, but Lembril thought that it wasn’t because they didn’t understand so much as that they were willing to know and to bear witness. _Not for sure. Not in detail._

That moment of uncertainty shattered as the door to the suite swung open. All four guards turned to face the potential threat, and Lembril moved so that a heavy wooden wardrobe stood between him and the door.

If Lembril hadn't been fairly sure he knew who was coming in, he'd have made more effort to retrieve his sword. _But, really, the only question is whether it's just her or if I'll have to deal with both of them._ His younger sister was less inclined to mercy than his older sister. _Asineh remembers when Enril was really our brother._ Lembril almost did.

Pashreah’s pace, as she entered the room, was just slow enough for drama. As her eyes moved to take in the situation, her face showed no emotion. Then she caught Lembril’s eyes, and her lips curved in an almost imperceptible smile. “I thought you’d be here. I thought _he’d_ be here.”

Lembril shrugged with one shoulder while using the opposite hand to wave toward Enril. “As you see.”

“Yes.” She hesitated for a moment. “Thank you, Lembril.” The words were almost inaudible.

He looked away. They both knew that it wasn’t thanks for what he was going to do but, rather, thanks for not letting her do it. _She knows what she could be._ Realizing that she knew and didn’t want it felt as if a crushing burden had been removed from his back.

Pashreah fixed her eyes on Enril. “I thought about not.”

The words were clearly addressed to Enril, so Lembril didn’t say anything.

Her hands clenched. “I was five.” The words were even, but Lembril thought that everyone in the room saw the effort she was expending to keep them so. “I saw it all. I wasn’t old enough or skilled enough to cloak anyone else.” Her voice broke. “You didn’t even know my _name_. Did you not know how many of us there were or did you just not bother to count the corpses? All you cared about was that mother died last and that she told you where Lembril was.”

Enril coughed as if his throat didn’t want to let words through. “I know your name now.” There was a bitterness and rage in the words that hadn’t shown in his face or posture.

Lembril pressed his foot against Enril’s ribs again, harder. _Just to make a point._

Pashreah pulled a bag out of her pocket and offered it to Lembril. “I thought about not,” she told him, “but I don’t have that sort of mercy in me.”

Lembril couldn’t reach the bag from where he stood, so Iwan took the bag and carried it over. Lembril opened it to find a string of mismatched beads.

“It will only break if he dies.” Pashreah raised her chin as if daring anyone to say anything.

Lembril wondered if whatever power was in the beads would make that death harder if it didn’t match Pashreah’s need for vengeance. He supposed it didn’t matter.

“The black one will glow if he’s near to dying.” Pashreah turned so that she could no longer see either Lembril or Enril. “I keyed it to you. Any of the beads-- If you touch one and say his name, it will invoke the magic. If you want to release it, touch that bead and say your name. The power won’t decrease with use. There’s a list in the bag.” She raised a hand to her face just for a moment. “I’m sorry, Lembril. You’re stronger than I am.”

 _I will always protect you. You know that._ He didn’t say it out loud because he was sure she remembered him saying it before. He closed his eyes as he remembered her at five years old. _When she somehow found us before Enril’s people did. When she very carefully didn’t tell us any more than that the rest of them were dead. When she didn’t cry for years after, except when she slept._

He wasn’t actually pleased to have guessed correctly that his sister needed Enril to be worse than dead. _And it doesn’t matter because I’d do it anyway. She matters more than the dead, but they matter, too. It’s not just for me._

Lembril watched his sister leave then turned his attention back to Enril. "She doesn't want you dead." Lembril didn't think that he had to say that part wasn't mercy. He ran the beads through his fingers, letting himself learn the shape of each. "I could experiment." He made the words light, as if trying his sister's gift to see what happened to Enril would be a game.

Enril flinched because Lembril, at twelve, actually would have been unable to resist playing with unknown magics. Enril couldn't know what Lembril would or wouldn't do at twenty seven.

Lembril pulled out the notes Pashreah had stuffed into the bag. According to her list, the amber bead nearest the knot was for obedience. There was a parenthetical after that added 'Very literal minded interpretations.' There were beads-- more than one-- for pain and for forced sleep or paralysis. Three dark blue beads were for physical healing; Pashreah's notes specified that each would need power from another person, possibly more than one, as exhausting as a full day of hard labor and that none of the beads could be used more than once in twenty four hours.

Lembril supposed that he could find people willing for such a service. Occasionally. He'd just make sure he paid rather more than they could get for hard labor and provided better living conditions. He looked down at his brother with a smile that bared his teeth. "I thought you'd die slowly; it looks like you're not going to die at all. Well, no, that comes to us all, eventually." He brushed his finger across the amber bead and said, "Enril."

Enril stopped breathing for a moment.

Lembril wasn't sure if that was the magic settling or Enril expecting something immediate to happen that hurt and being surprised. "Do not resist," Lembril told him. "No matter what any human does, do not resist. Harm no one. Attack no one. Damage nothing." Lembril stepped back and looked at Iwan. "I'm safe enough with him now, even alone." He wasn't entirely sure it was true. Both of his sisters would likely have found loopholes in his commands.

Enril still might.

"Unbind him, Iwan. Then, all of you go. There will be other... occasions. For now, my brother and I will... talk... alone."

Enril didn't try to move, not even to stand, after the chains were gone. He glanced up at Lembril when the door closed then looked back at the floor.

"For these hours," Lembril said, "you believe that you deserve punishment. You believe that you suffer and obey willingly both in order to atone and because you want to please me. You will remember the truth, later, when you are alone in your cell."

Enril's posture showed an instant of horror and protest before he relaxed in mere apprehensive anxiety.

Lembril noted that there was a slight time delay before a compulsion settled and wondered if that would be true of all commands or only of those that forced Enril to act against his nature. Lembril leaned on the edge of his desk. "Strip." He waved a hand to indicate that Enril could stand.

Enril's hands shook as he removed his clothing.

Lembril wondered if it was because some part of Enril still knew that he didn't want any part of what was coming. Perhaps it was merely that suffering in order to atone was still suffering. Lembril hadn't told Enril to consider it kindness. He still could, but he hadn't. He doubted he ever would.

Standing in the middle of the room, naked, Enril didn't look as powerful or as large as Lembril's memories still insisted he was. Those were not the arms that had carried a five year old Lembril across the Lislith River after his pony went lame nor the hands that had adjusted his grip on his first wooden practice sword.

"I don't remember anything good you have ever done." Lembril met his brother's eyes. "It was dreams and lies drowned in the blood of my kin and of yours." He could have made Enril forget that part, too.

"You were a danger to me, just by existing," Enril said. "You mostly but the others, too. Your mother laughed at me when I offered to make her my secondary wife. She said I was too young and that your uncles would take care of you. If I'd had you all in hand, I wouldn't have had to--" He shook his head. "She chose for all of you."

Lembril hadn't known about the laughter or about the offer. "That's worse," he said, almost choking on the words. He hadn't wanted an answer to the question of why Enril had been so vicious in the killing. 

The politics had always been clear enough.

Enril flinched. He dropped to his knees then pressed his face to the floor. "Tell me what to do," he begged. "Please. Whatever you want."

The sincerity of that turned Lembril's stomach, more because he wanted so badly know how much shame and horror Enril would feel, later, remembering than because he was having second thoughts. "You're really not good for much," Lembril said. He stood then paced a circle around Enril. He stopped midway to bend and run his fingers along Enril's spine. "I'm going to fuck you. A lot of people are going to. You'll be eager for whatever anyone chooses to make you lick or suck or to shove into you. You know that you've always wanted that. This is just the first time circumstances allowed you to admit it."

"Yes." Enril shuddered. "Please. I need it. I always have." He pressed back against Lembril's hand.

"Up. Bend over the desk. Use your hands to hold your ass cheeks apart." Lembril shook his head as Enril obeyed. Even now, Lembril could quite believe that Pashreah's enchantment was powerful enough manage this.

She had to have been working on those beads for years.

"Are you hard?" Lembril asked.

Enril gave a shuddering gasp that might have been a yes.

Lembril smiled and gave himself a moment to consider the ass in front of him as simply a muscularly tight and attractive thing, something he could take pleasure in without anything mattering except that his body would enjoy the contact.

Enril wriggled his ass. "Please. You promised--"

It was almost a whine, and Lembril smacked Enril's right ass cheek without even thinking about it. "Making demands means punishment. Move your hands." Lembril spent the next few minutes applying his hands to Enril's ass until the flesh felt hot under his fingers and Enril had started to whimper. "You want this," Lembril reminded him.

"I... want... this." Enril's words were almost inaudible.

Enril's ass really did feel perfect under Lembril's hands. If it hadn't been Enril's, Lembril would have wanted to fuck it for completely uncomplicated reasons. He squeezed then laughed softly as Enril wriggled in response. He squeezed harder. "Does that feel good?"

"Hurts." Enril didn't sound as if he was complaining, more as if it was an expected part of his universe.

"I want it to," Lembril told him. "I like that part."

"Oh." Enril was still under Lembril's hands for a moment; then he said, "Then me hurting more is better?"

Lembril hesitated before saying, "For me. You're allowed to wish it were less." He pinched Enril's ass, digging in his fingernails and twisting the flesh until Enril cried out. "You want to please me." Reinforcing that order seemed like a wise thing, so he gave it the emphasis of a command. "No need to be stoic; cry if you must. If surrender was easy, I wouldn't enjoy getting it from you."

Lembril oiled his cock but didn't bother preparing Enril's hole. That made forcing his way through a little more difficult, but Enril pushed back eager to have Lembril inside him. The fact that Enril started weeping after less than a minute of rough fucking repayed the effort. 

At first, Lembril took his time because he wanted Enril to remember every moment later, but after a while, he was taking his time because he wanted to remember. He'd probably fuck Enril again, but he wouldn't do it here, and he probably couldn't maneuver Enril to this level of sweet vulnerability again.

He wasn't sure he even wanted to. Bitter and resentful vulnerability might well be sweeter. Lembril came while thinking about fucking an Enril who understood both that he didn't want it and that what he wanted or didn't had no relevance.

****

After Asineh's coronation, Lembril put Enril on display in a pavillion in the largest and most open garden. He was glad that the season made being there pleasant and that his sister, his Queen, understood why it was necessary. She chose not to acknowledge what everyone knew-- that, in good weather, anyone might watch favored visitors fuck the former King-- but she also chose not to intervene. It was a crueler way to remove Enril as a political threat than execution would have been, but it was no less effective.

Asineh visited Enril in his cell, once a week. Sometimes, she took her chaplain with her. Lembril thought the three of them prayed. At least, he didn't see the point of the chaplain otherwise.

Lembril went in first, each time, to make sure that Enril was thoroughly chained, but he let the two of them speak privately.

Asineh remembered Enril their brother well enough that the ways he'd betrayed her were different from the ways he'd betrayed the rest of them. Asineh still saw her brother in the man he'd become. "I wouldn't let it be," she told Lembril, privately, "if I didn't know that you and Pashreah--" Asineh shook her head. "His death would settle our ghosts enough to let them pass the Gate to Ruann."

Lembril was pretty sure Pashreah didn't believe in the ghosts of the unhallowed slain or in the idea that revenge released them. Lembril preferred not to think about it because he'd left his own trail of corpses as they'd fought their war for survival. There were more than a few that had probably never had even the most generic of rites.

Asineh had found a priest who could create a rite for the Unknown Dead. Every crown courier and tax collector would be required to learn it.

Asineh was a much better Queen than Lembril would have been a King.

Instead of saying that, Lembril said, "When summer ends, Enril can vanish with the leaves."

Asineh gave him a sharp look. "It would be better if he did," she replied in a tone that said that she absolutely didn't believe Lembril's words.

"I enjoy his company."

"Him or--" She jerked her head in the direction of the pavillion. "--or _him_?"

Lembril shrugged because it didn't matter. "Enril's not the only brother being removed as a political threat."

"Lembril--" The disappointed look she gave him then hadn't worked since she'd been eight and he'd been four.

No, it had worked for about fourteen months after their mother died. "No one will even consider me as King once they can't deny that I'm still--" He shrugged again. "I'm not fond enough of him for him to influence your decisions that way, and it's really damned unlikely that we'll have children. I _can_ live celibate." He met his sister's eyes and tried to guess what she was thinking.

She put her arms around him. "You shouldn't have to," she told him. "Just... You should have someone you're fond enough of to influence my decisions, and as to children--"

"I'll raise Pashreah's," he said. "We both know she shouldn't."

Asineh still looked troubled, so Lembril wasn't very surprised when, several months later, Enril died in his sleep the night after one of Asineh's visits. Lembril had forbidden Enril suicide from enough angles that he couldn't have killed himself, so one of the two women must have poisoned him.

Lembril didn't ask.

They buried him quietly with the rites for a brother but not those for a King or a lover. Pashreah did not attend.


End file.
